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Frontispiece — The Christmas Stocking. 

“NOW BEGIN,” HE SAID, “BUT YOU MUST ’NT ALL TALK AT ONCE,” 

See p. 24, 



w/m AN /NrNom<pX{ON 

BY N.N.IN/LLARD 
FORTY FOUR /LLU6TFA T/QNS 


Y ::X 


• PMILADELPAIA: • 

f^ENRY ALTEAU8 60APANX 



\ 



THE LlBKARY OF 
CON^^RESS, 

T yvo Copies Recoivefl 

OCT 13 1903 


Copynti^^ tntry 



^ ^ 
COPY B. { 


Copyright, 1903, by Henry Altemus. 



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M 




THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 



INTRODUCTION 


T his story of the Christmas Stocking has 
helped to make many children happy, for 
without it many fathers and mothers 
would never have thought of making arrange- 
ments for the visit of Santa Claus, who never 
comes where he is not made welcome. 

‘^Long ago,’^ says a well-known editor and 
writer— ‘‘so very long ago it seems to me now— 
when I was a very little boy, my father brought 
home a book called The Christmas Stocking. It 
was only a little book, but that little book has 
helped to make me happier every Christmas for 
fifty years. It was the reading of that story in 
our house which began, for us in the old home, 

vii 


INTRODUCTION 


viii 

the practice of hanging np Christmas stock- 
ings. ’ ’ 

Probably the best Christmas Stocking which 
any child, into whose hands this book may be 
put, can get is the habit of remembering— not 
only at Christmas time, but at all times— some 
one who has not all the good things which he 
himself possesses. 

J. H. W. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

Introductory vii 

I. The Night Before Christmas 13 

II. The Story of The Purse 27 

III. The Story of The Farthing 95 

IV. The Story of The Cork Boat .... 127 

(ix) 
















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ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


“Now begin,” he said, “but you must n’t all talk at 

once ” Frontispiece, 

“ Down came Santa Claus ” 13 

“ John Krinken sat on an old box making a fish-net ” .15 

Mr. Krinken adds a boat to the contents of the famous 

stocking 17 

“ ‘ I ’ll give him a farthing to fill up the chinks . . 19 

“ ‘ Where did you come from, old stocking?’ ” . . 23 

“ ‘ I was in a big fancy-store in London ’” . . .29 

The cow causes the death of the owner of the purse . 31 

“ ‘ She finally put me in her pocket ’ ” . . . .33 

The dishonest servant rifles his master’s pockets . . 35 

“ ‘ My mistress opened another small gate ’ ” . . .37 

The young girl stands still and calls the cows . . 39 

The cows love to be milked by the gentle hands of the 

young girl 43 

“ By-and-by Mrs. Meadow read the Bible ” . . . 45 

Mrs. Meadow tells Silky that she may keep the purse . 47 
Silky asks Norman why he does not buy at one time all 

the milk he needs 51 

“ He spread out his hands to the blaze ” . . . .53 

Poor Little Norman is one of Silky’s regular customers 55 

(xi) 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


Silky tells Norman not to cry, and that she is his friend 
“ The next morning it rained steadily ” 

“ They wound an old shawl around him ” 

‘ Poor little thing,’ said Silky ” 

Norman tells Mrs. Meadow there is no one to care for him 
Norman comes again for milk but dislikes to be questioned 
“ ‘ A brave fellow offered to take it ’ ” 

Mrs. Meadow and Silky visit Norman at the factory . 

“ He was looking at Long- Ears ” 

Mrs. Meadow and Silky set out to visit Norman . 

“ Norman did not look much changed ” . 

“ ‘ Poor Long-Ears,’ h'e said ” 

“ He just slumbered away ” 

The old gentleman slips the bright farthing into his 

purse 

“ ‘ Oh, grandpa, I ’m so glad you ’ve come ’ ” . 

The boot-maker’s boy says a mistake has been made . 

“ Presently he walked away ” 

The old gentleman refuses to even look at the coin 

“ ‘ You pretty farthing,’ she said ” 

The little girl buys tea for her sick mother with the far- 
thing 

“ He gave the starch to the cook ” 

Nanny asks her mother for the farthing 

“ ‘ She had not even a shawl ’” 

Nanny and her mother reached the baker’s shop 

“ ‘ What will you have, my dear?’ ” 

“ The baker’s boy was sweeping the floor” . 

“ Carl placed the boat on the old chest ” . 

(xii) 


59 

61 

63 

65 

67 

71 

75 

79 

81 

83 

87 

89 

91 

97 

99 

101 

103 

105 

107 

109 

111 

113 

117 

119 

121 

123 

129 



THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


CHAPTER I 

THE NIGHT BEEOEE CHKISTMAS 

■ J"IFE/’ said John Krinken, ‘^what shall 
we put in little CarPs stocking to- 
night!’’ 

^‘Trnly,” said his wife, ‘T do not know. 
Nevertheless, we mnst find something, though 
there be but little in the house. ’ ’ 


W 


13 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


And the wind swept round and round the old 
hut, and every cupboard door rattled and said 
in an empty sort of way, There is not much 
here. ’ ’ 

John Krinken and his wife lived on the coast, 
where they could hear every winter storm rage 
and beat, and where the wild sea sometimes 
brought wood for them and laid it at their very 
door. It was a driftwood fire by which they sat 
now, this Christmas Eve. The andirons were 
two round stones, and the hearth was a flat one ; 
and in front of the fire sat John Krinken on an 
old box making a fish-net, while a splinter chair 
upheld Mrs. Krinken and a half-mended red 
flannel shirt. An old chest between the two held 
patches and balls of twine. 

‘^We must find something,’’ repeated John. 
And pausing with his netting-needle half 
through the loop, he looked round towards one 
corner of the hut. 

A clean, rosy little face and a very complete 
set of thick curls rested there, in the very middle 
of the thin pillow and the hard bed; while the 
coverlet of blue check was tucked round and in, 
H 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


lest the driftwood fire should not do its duty at 
that distance. 

“You Ve got the stocking, wife?” said John, 
after a pause. 


“JOHN KRINKEN SAT ON AN OLD BOX MAKING A FISH-NET.” 

‘‘Ay,’’ said his wife, “it ’s easy to find some- 
thing to fill it. ” 

“Fetch it out, then, and let ’s see how much 
’t will take. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Krinken arose, and, going to one of the 
two little cupboards, she brought thence a large 

15 




THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


iron key; and then, having placed the patches 
and thread upon the floor, she opened the chest, 
and rummaged out a long gray woolen stock- 
ing, with white toe and heel and various darns 
in red. Then she locked the chest again and sat 
down as before. 

^‘The same old thing, said John Krinken, 
with a glance at the stocking. 

‘‘Well,’’ said his wife, “it ’s the only stocking 
in the house that ’s long enough. ’ ’ 

“I know one thing he shall have in it,” said 
John; and he got up and went to the other cup- 
board, and fetched from it a large piece of cork. 

“He shall have a boat that will float like one 
of Mother Carey’s chickens.” And he began 
to cut and shape with his large clasp-knife, while 
the little heap of chips on the floor between his 
feet grew larger, and the cork grew more and 
more like a boat. 

His wife laid down her hand, which was in 
the sleeve of the red shirt, and watched him. 

“It ’ll never do to put that in first,” she said; 
“the masts would be broke. I guess I ’ll fill the 
toe of the stocking with apples. ’ ’ 

i6 



t 


MR. KRINKEN ADDS A BOAT TO THE CONTENTS OF THE FAMOUS STOCKING, 











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THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


‘ ‘ Apples ! ’ ’ said J olin. ^ ^ Well, I dl give him a 
farthing to fill up the chinks.’’ 

‘'And I ’ve an old purse that he can keep it 
in, ’ ’ said the mother. 

“How long do you suppose he ’ll keep it?” 
said John. 



“Well, he ’ll want to put it somewhere while 
he does keep it,” said Mrs. Krinken. “The 
purse is old, but it was handsome once ; and it ’ll 
please the child, anyway. And then there ’s 
his new shoes. ’ ’ 

So when the boat was done, Mrs. Krinken 

19 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


brought out the apples and slipped them into the 
stocking; and then the shoes went in, and the 
purse, and the farthing— which, of course, ran 
all the way down to the biggest red darn of all, 
in the very toe of the stocking. 

But there was still abundance of room left. 

John Krinken and his wife filled it with an 
old book with silver clasps, and an old sharp- 
pointed pine cone, and then followed them up 
with a great deal of love and a blessing. 

And then the stocking was quite full. 

It was midnight; and the fire had long been 
covered up, and John Krinken and his wife were 
fast asleep, and little Carl was in the midst of 
the hard bed and his sweet dreams as before. 
The stocking hung by the side of the fireplace, 
as still as if it had never walked about in its life, 
and not a sound could be heard but the beat of 
the surf upon the shore, and an occasional sigh 
from the wind. 

But just at midnight there was another noise 
heard— as somebody says— 

“You could hear on the roof 
The scraping and prancing of each little hoof.” 


20 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


and down came Santa Claus through tlie chim- 
ney. 

The first thing he did was to examine the 
stocking and its contents. At some of the ar- 
ticles he laughed, and at some he frowned, but 
most of all did he shake his head over the love 
that filled up all the spare room in the stocking. 
It was a kind of thing Santa Claus was nT used 
to. But Santa Claus put all the things back just 
as he had found them, and stood smiling to 
himself for a minute, with his hands on his 
sides and his back to the fire. Then tap- 
ping the stocking with a little stick that he 
carried, he bent down over Carl and whispered 
some words in his ear, and went off up the 
chimney. 

And the little mice came out and danced on 
the floor till the day broke. 

‘^Christmas day in the morning!” Carl 
started up in his bed and shouted— 

‘ ‘ Merry Christmas 1 ^ ’ 

The mice were a good deal startled, for they 
had not all seen their partners home; but they 
got out of the way as fast as they could, and 

^ — The Christmas Stocking, 


21 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


when Carl bounded out of bed he stood alone 
upon the floor. 

The floor felt cold— very. CarHs toes curled 
up in the most disapproving manner possible, 
and he tried standing on his heels. Then he 
scampered across the floor. He seized the stock- 
ing in both hands and scampered back to bed 
again, screaming out— 

^‘Apples! apples! apples!’’ 

His mother being now nicely awaked by his 
clambering over her for the second time, she 
gave him a kiss and a merry Christmas,” and 
got up, and as his father did the same, Carl was 
left in undisturbed possession of the warm bed. 

‘^Mother,” said Carl, ‘H dreamed last night 
that all my presents told me stories. Wasn’t 
it funny?” 

^Wes, I suppose so,” said his mother, as she 
walked away to turn the fish that was broiling. 
Carl lay still and looked at the stocking. 

Where did you come from, old stocking?” 
said he. 

‘‘From England,” said the stocking, very 
softly. 


22 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


Carl started right up in bed, and looked be- 
tween the sheets and over the counterpane, and 
behind the head-board — there was nothing to be 
seen. Then he shook the stocking as hard as 



“‘WHERE DID YOU COME FROM, OLD STOCKING?”’ 


he could, but something in it struck his other 
hand, pretty hard, too. Carl laid it down and 
looked at it again, and then cautiously putting 
in his hand, he with some difficulty found his 
way to the very toe ; there lay the farthing, just 

23 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


where it had been all the time, upon the biggest 
of the red darns. 

farthing!^’ cried Carl. ‘^Oh, I guess it 
was you talking, wasn’t it?” 

‘ ‘ No, ” said it. ^ ^ But I can talk. ’ ’ 

^‘Do you know where you came from?” said 
Carl, staring at it with all his eyes. 

‘ ^ Certainly, ’ ’ said the farthing. 

‘H dreamed that everything in my stocking 
told me a story, ’ ’ said Carl. 

^^So we will,” said the farthing. ‘^Only to 
you. To nobody else.” 

As soon as breakfast was over, Carl carried 
the stocking to one corner of the hut, where 
stood another old chest; and laying out all his 
treasures thereon, he knelt down before it. 

^‘Now begin,” he said. ‘^But you mustn’t 
all talk at once. I guess I ’ll hear the purse 
first. ’ ’ 


24 


THE STORY OF THE PURSE 




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CHAPTER II 


THE STORY OF THE PURSE 

I ^ HE first place where I was settled was in 
I a big fancy-store in London, ’ ^ the purse 
began. am made of sealskin, the 
sides, and my studs and clasp are silver. I feel 
very dull now. But in those days I was as 
bright as a butterfly, and as handsome. My 
sides were a beautiful bright red. The next 
place I was in was a gentleman’s pocket.” 

^ ^ How did you get there ? ’ ’ asked Carl. 

‘‘He came to buy a purse, and so a number of 
us were thrown out upon the counter, and he 
looked at us and tried us, and bought me and put 
me in his pocket. There my business was to 
hold guineas and half-guineas, and crowns and 
half-crowns, and all sorts of beautiful pieces 
of silver and gold. I did n’t stay long with him, 
27 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


however. He was traveling in some part of 
England with a friend, riding over a wide, lonely 
plain one day; and they saw a little distance 
ahead a cow in the road, lying down, right across 
their path. ^ Stapleton,^ said my master, Get us 
clear that cow.^ ^CanT your servant do that!’ 
said Mr. Stapleton. ^Do what!’ said my mas- 
ter. ‘Clear that beast from the road,’ said his 
friend. ‘Pshaw!’ said my master— ‘I mean let 
us clear her at a bound. Leave her in quiet pos- 
session of the road, and we take an air-line over 
her back.’ ‘Suppose she took a stupid notion 
to get out of our way just as we are in hers!’ 
said Mr. Stapleton. ‘I don’t suppose anything 
of the kind,’ said my master; ‘we shall be too 
quick for her.’ With that they put spurs to 
their horses, hut it happened that Mr. Staple- 
ton’s horse got the start and was a little ahead. 
lie cleared the cow well enough, but unluckily 
it gave her an impression that just where she 
was it was a poor place to be; and she was 
throwing up her hind legs at the very minute 
my master came to take the leap. He was flung 
over and over, he and his horse, over and under 
28 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


each other— I donT know how. I only know 
my master was killed. 

‘^His friend and his servant picked him up 
and laid him by the roadside; and while Mr. 
Stapleton went full speed to the nearest town 



to get help, the other stayed behind to take care 
of his master, and do what could be done for him. 
But he very soon found that nothing could be 
done ; and then, as nobody was in sight, he took 
29 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


the opportunity to do what he could for himself, 
by rifling his master’s pockets. He pulled out 
several things which I suppose he did n ’t dare to 
keep, for he put them back again after a careful 
look at them, and after carefully taking off some 
seals from the watch-chain. I did not fare so 
well. He had me in his hands a long time, 
taking out and putting in silver and gold pieces 
—afraid to keep too much, and not willing to 
leave a crown that might be kept safely, when 
a sudden step heard near, and the bursting out of 
a loud whistle, startled him. He jumped as if 
he had been shot, which was natural enough, as 
he was running a pretty good chance of getting 
hanged. I was dropped, or thrown behind him, 
in the grass, and before the countryman who 
came up had done asking questions, the horses 
of Mr. Stapleton and assistants were seen over 
the rising ground. They carried away my un- 
fortunate first master, and left me in the grass. 

knew I shouldn’t stay there long, but I 
was found sooner than I hoped. Before the 
evening had closed in, the sun was shining yet, 
I heard the tread of light feet— somebody near- 
30 



THE COW CAUSES THE DEATH OF THE OWNER OF THE PURSE. 







THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


ing the road and then crossing it. In crossing, 
this somebody came just upon me, and a kind 
sunbeam touching one of my silver points, I 
embraced the opportunity to shine as hard as 
I could. I shone so she could not help seeing 



me. It was a girl about fifteen or sixteen years 
old: a slim figure, very tidy in her dress, with 
light-brown hair nicely put back from her face, 
and her face a very quiet, sweet one. She 
looked at me, inside and out, looked up and 
33 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


down the road, as if to see where I had come 
from, and finally put me in her pocket. T was 
very glad nobody was in sight anywhere, for I 
knew by her face she would have given me up 
directly. She left the road then and went on 
over the common, which was a wide, lonely bar- 
ren plain, grass-grown, and with here and there a 
bunch of bushes or a low, stunted tree. She 
was going after her cows, to bring them home ; 
and presently, seeing them in the distance, she 
stood still and began to call them. 

^AVhen they got up with their little mistress, 
she set otf to go home, and the whole five of them 
followed gravely in order. 

little way beyond this, not more than a 
quarter of a mile, we came to a small brown 
house, with one or two out-buildings. The 
house stood in a little field, and the out-buildings 
in another little field, close beside this one. 
Everything was small; house and barn and 
shed, and cow-field and garden-field; hut it was 
all snug, and neat, too. 

^ ^ My mistress opened a gate of the barnyard, 
and held it while all the five cows marched 


34 



35 


DISHONEST SERVANT RIFLES HIS MASTER’S POCKETS 



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THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


slowly in, looking around them as if they ex- 
pected to see some change made in the arrange- 
ments since they had gone out in the morning. 

‘ ‘ When my mistress had shut the gate upon the 
five cows, she opened another small gate in the 



fence of the field where the house stood; and 
there she went in, through two beds of roses and 
sweet herbs that were on each side of the narrow 
walk, up to the door, that stood open to let her 
in. 


3— The Christmas Stocking. 



THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


‘Ht was the nicest place you ever saw. A 
clean scrubbed floor, with a thick, coarse piece 
of carpet covering the middle of it; a dark 
wooden table and wooden chairs, nice and in 
their places, only one chair stood on the hearth, 
as if somebody had just left it. There was a 
big, wide, comfortable fireplace, with a fire burn- 
ing in it, and over the fire hung a big iron tea- 
kettle, in the very midst of the flames, and sing- 
ing already. On each side of the chimney brown 
wooden cupboards filled up the whole space 
from the floor to the ceiling. All was tidy and 
clean. The hearth looked as if you might have 
baked cakes on it. 

^‘The girl stood a minute before the fire, and 
then went to the inner door and called ‘ Mother ! ’ 

^‘A pleasant voice from somewhere said, 
‘Here!’ 

“ ‘In the milk-room?’ 

“ ‘Yes!” 

“ ‘Look here what I ’ve found, mother.’ 

“ ‘Can’t look at anything, daughter. Go 
along and milk, and I will hear you at tea-time. ’ 

“Then my little mistress took up the pails, 
38 



39 


THE YOUNG GIRL STANDS STILL AND CALLS THE COWS. 





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THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


and went out by another way, through another 
gate that opened directly into the cows^ yard; 
and there she stripped the yellow sweet milk 
into the pails, from every one of the five cows 
she had driven home. Not one of them but 
loved to be milked by her hand; they enjoyed 
it, every cow of them, standing quiet and sleepily 
munching the cud, except when now and then one 
of them would throw back her head furiously 
at some fly on her side. 

‘‘Mrs. Meadow, which was the woman’s name, 
took the milk pails at the dairy door, and my 
mistress came back into the kitchen to get tea. 
She put up a leaf of the brown table and set a 
tray on it, and out of one of the cupboards she 
fetched two tea-cups and saucers ; so I knew there 
were no more in the family. Then two little 
blue-edged plates and horn-handled knives, and 
the rest of the things ; and when the tea was made 
she dressed up the fire, and stood looking at 
it and the tea-table by turns, till her mother 
showed herself at the door, and came in, taking 
off her apron. She was the nicest-looking 
woman you ever saw. ’ ’ 


41 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


^ ‘ She was n T as nice as my mother, ’ ’ said 
Carl. 

‘‘Mrs. Krinken never was half so nice. She 
was the best-natured, cheerfullest, pleasantest- 
faced woman you could find, as bright as one of 
her own red apples. Everything about her was 
bright. Her spoons, and the apples, and the 
brass candlesticks, and the milk-pans, and the 
glass in the windows, and her own kind heart. 
The mother and daughter had a very cosy tea, 
and I was laid upon the table and my story 
told, or rather the story of my being found; 
and it was decided that I should remain in the 
keeping of the finder, whom her mother, by 
some freak of habit, rarely called anything but 
‘Silky.’ ” 

“What fori” said Carl. 

“Maybe you’ll find out if you don’t ask so 
many questions,” said the purse, snappishly. 
‘It ’s yours. Silky,’ Mrs. Meadow said, after 
looking at me and rubbing the silver mountings. 
‘It ’s odd such a handsome purse should have 
no money in it.’ 

“ ‘I ’m not going to put it away out of sight, 
42 



43 


THE COWS LOVE TO BE MILKED BY THE GENTLE HANDS OF THE YOUNG GIRL, 



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mother, ’ said Silky ; H going to have the good 
of it. I dl keep it to hold my milk-money.’^ 
^Well, dear, here goes the first,’ said Mrs. 
Meadow here ’s a silver penny I took for 
milk while you were after the cows. ’ 



‘‘Who came for it, mother?’ 

“ ‘Don’t know— a lady riding by— and she 
gave me this. ’ 

“So a little silver coin was slipped into my 
emptiness, and my little mistress laid me on a 
45 



THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


shelf of the other cupboard, alongside of an old 
Bible. But she left the door a crack open ; and 
I could see them at work, washing up the tea 
things, and then knitting and sewing upon the 
hearth, both of them by a little round table. By- 
and-by Mrs. Meadow took the Bible out and 
read, and then she and Silky kneeled down, close 
together, to pray. They covered up the fire 
after that, and shut the cupboard door, and went 
off to bed ; and I was left to think what a new 
place I had come to, and how I liked it. 

^ ^ My business was to lie there on the shelf and 
keep the milk-pennies, and see all that was going 
on. Silky sold the milk. The people that came 
for it were mostly poor people from the neigh- 
boring village, or their children going home 
from the factory ; people that lived in poor little 
dwellings in the town, without gardens or fields, 
or a cow to themselves, and just bought a 
penny’s worth, or a half-penny’s, at a time— as 
little as they could do with. 

After I had been on the cupboard shelf 
awhile, however, and got to know the faces, I 
saw there was one little boy who came morning 
46 



47 


MRS. MEADOW TELLS SILKY THAT SHE MAY KEEP THE PURSE. 










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and evening, too. In the morning he fetched a 
half-pennyworth and in the evening a penny- 
worth of milk in a stont little brown jng ; always 
the same brown jng ; and always in the morning 
he wanted a half-pennyworth, and in the evening 
a pennyworth. He was a small fellow, with a 
shock of red hair, and his face all marked with 
the small-pox. He was one of the poorest-loOk- 
ing that came. There was never a hat on his 
head; his trousers were fringed with tags; his 
feet bare of shoes or stockings. His jacket was 
always fastened close up, either to keep him 
warm or to hide how very little there was under 
it. Poor little Norman Finch! That was his 
name. 

^^He had come a good many mornings. One 
day, early, just as Mrs. Meadow and Silky were 
getting breakfast, his little red head poked itself 
in again at the door with his little brown jug, 
and ^Please, ma’am— a ha ’penn’orth.’ 

<< ‘Why don’t you get all you want at once, 
Norman r said Silky, when she brought the milk. 

H don’t want only a ha ’penn’orth,’ said 
Norman. 


49 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


<< ^Why don’t you take it all at onceH 
H don’t want it.’ 

‘Are you going to the factory!’ 

“ ‘Yes, I be.’ 

“ ‘How will your mother get her milk!’ 

‘ ‘ ‘ She ’ll get it when I go home. ’ 

“ ‘But not this, Norman. What do you want 
this for!’ 

“ ‘ I want it. She don’t want it, ’ said the boy, 
looking troubled; ‘I must go.’ 

“ ‘Do you take it to drink at the factory!’ 

“ ‘No— it ’s to drink at the factory— she don’t 
want it,’ said Norman. 

“He went off. But as Silky set the breakfast 
on the table, she said : 

“ ‘Mother, I don’t understand; I am afraid 
there is something wrong about this morning 
milk.’ 

“ ‘Don’t think anything, dear,’ said Mrs. 
Meadow, ‘till we know something more. We’ll 
get the child to let it out. Poor little creature ! 
I wish I could keep him out of that place. ’ 

“ ‘Which place, mother!” 

meant the factory.^ 

SO 


1 



51 


SILKY ASKS NORMAN WHY HE DOES NOT BUY AT ONE TIME ALL THE MILK HE NEEDS. 






THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


‘‘The next morning Norman was there again. 
He put himself and his jug only half in at the 
door, and said, somewhat doubtfully : 

“ ‘Please, ma’am, a ha ’penn’orth?’ 

“ ‘Come in, Norman,’ said Silky. 

‘ ‘ He hesitated. 



“ ‘Come!— come in— come in to the fire; it ’s 
chilly out of doors. You are in good time, 
aren’t you?’ 

<< < Yes— but I can’t stay,’ said the boy, com- 
ing in, however, and walking slowly up to the 

4 — The Christmas Stocking. 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


fire. But he came close, and his two hands 
spread themselves to the blaze as if they liked it, 
and the poor little bare feet shone in the fire- 
light on the hearth. It was early, very cool and 
damp abroad. 

H dl get you the milk,’ said Silky, taking 
the jug; ‘you stand and warm yourself. 
You Ve plenty of time.’ 

‘ ‘ She came back with the jug in one hand and 
a piece of cold bacon in the other, which she 
offered to Norman. He looked at it, and then 
grabbed it, and began to eat immediately. 
Silky stood opposite to him with the jug. 

“ ^What ’s this milk for, Norman?’ she said, 
pleasantly. 

“He stopped eating and looked troubled 
directly. 

“ ‘You needn’t be afraid to tell me, dear,' 
Silky said, gently. ‘I ’m not going to do you 
any harm. Does your mother know you get it ?' 

‘ ‘ He waited a good while, and then when she 
repeated the question, taking another look at 
Silky’s kind, quiet face, he said, half under his 
breath— 


54 



55 


POOR LITTIE NORMAN IS ONE OF SILKY’S REGULAR CUSTOMERS. 


















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‘No.’ 

“ ‘What do you want it for, then, dear'? 
I ’d rather give it to you than have you take it 
in a wrong way. Do you want it to drink!’ 

“ ‘Oh, don’t tell!’ sobbed the child. “It ’s 
for my little dog ! ’ 

“ ‘Now don’t cry!’ said Silky. ‘Your little 
dog!’ 

“ ‘ Yes ! my little dog. ’ And he sighed deeply 
between the words. 

“ ‘Where is your little dog!’ 

“ ‘He ’s up yonder— up at the factory.’ 

“ ‘Who gave him to you!’ 

“ ‘Nobody didn’t give him to me. I found 
him.’ 

“ ‘Does your mother know you get the milk!’ 

“Norman did n’t answer. 

“ ‘She don’t,’ said Silky. ‘Then where does 
the money come from, Norman!’ She spoke 
very gently. 

“ ‘It ’s mine,’ said Norman. 

“ ‘Yes, but where do you get it!’ 

‘ ‘ ‘ Mr. Swift gives it to me. ’ 

“ ‘Is it out of your wages!’ 

57 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


‘^Norman hesitated, and then said ^Yes,’ and 
began to cry again. 

‘What ’s the matter?’ said Silky. ‘Sit 

down and tell me about him. What color is he ? ’ 

% 

“ ‘He ’s white all over, and his name is Little 
Curly Long-Ears.’ 

“ ‘But why don’t you feed him at home, Nor- 
man?’ 

“ ‘Father wouldn’t let me. He ’d take him 
away, or do something to him. ’ Norman looked 
dismal. 

“ ‘But where does he live?’ 

“ ‘He lives up at the factory, because Mr. 
Carroll said he was to come in, he was so hand- 
some. ’ 

“ ‘But your money— where does it come from, 
Norman?’ 

“ ‘Mr. Swift,’ said Norman, very dismally. 

“ ‘Then doesn’t your mother miss it, when 
you carry home your wages to her ? ’ 

“ ‘No, she don’t, ’cause I carry her just the 
same I did before. I get more now— I used to 
have fourpence ha’penny, and now they give me 
fi ’pence.’ 


58 



59 


SILKY TELLS NORMAN NOT TO CRY, AND THAT SHE IS HIS FRIEND. 








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THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 

‘‘And Norman burst into a terrible tit of cry- 
ing, as if liis secret was out, and it was all up 
with him and his dog, too. ‘Give me the milk 
and let me go ! ’ he exclaimed through his tears. 
‘Poor Curly!— poor Curly!’ 



“ ‘Here ’t is,’ said Silky, very kindly. ‘Don’t 
cry— I ’m not going to hurt you, or Curly 
either. ’ 

“He dried his tears, and ran, fast enough, 
holding the little brown jug carefully at half- 
61 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


arm’s length, and his bare feet pattering over 
the ground as fast as his short legs could make 
them. 

^‘The next morning Norman came again, and 
Mrs. Meadow was there. 

^Suppose,” said Mrs. Meadow, kindly, ^you 
come and see me to-morrow— it ’s Sunday, you 
know, and you have no work— will you! Come 
bright and early, and we ’ll have a nice break- 
fast, and you shall go to church with me if you 
like. ’ 

Norman shook his head. ‘Curly ’ll want to 
see me, ’ he said. 

“ ‘Well, about that just as you like. Come 
here to breakfast— you can do.’ 

“The next morning it rained— steadily, con- 
stantly, straight up and down. But at the usual 
time Mrs. Meadow and Silky were getting 
breakfast. 

“ ‘I ’m so sorry, mother,’ said Silky; ‘he 
won’t come.’ 

“She had hardly turned her back to see to 
something at the fire, when there he was behind 
her, standing in the middle of the floor; in no 
62 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


Sunday dress, but in his everyday rags, and 
those wet through and dripping. How glad and 
how sorry both mother and daughter looked! 
They brought him to the fire and wiped his feet, 
and wrung the water from his clothes as well 



as they could, but they did n’t know what to do; 
for the fire would not have dried him all the day ; 
and sit down to breakfast dry, with him soaking 
wet at her side, Mrs. Meadow could not. What 
to put on him was the trouble ; she had no chil- 

63 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


dren’s clothes at all in the house. Bnt she man- 
aged. She stripped off his rags and tacked two 
or three towels about him, and then over them 
wound a large old shawl, in some mysterious 
way, fastening it over his shoulders, in such a 
manner that it fell round him like a loose 
straight frock, leaving his arms quite free. 
Then, when his jacket and trousers had been put 
to dry, they sat down to breakfast. 

After breakfast, Mrs. Meadow left Silky to 
take care of the things ; and, drawing her chair 
up on the hearth, she took the little boy on her 
lap and wound her arms about him. 

^Little Norman, ’ said she, kindly, ^you wonT 
see Long-Ears to-day. ’ 

‘No,’ said Norman, with a sigh, in spite of 
breakfast and fire; Tie will have to go without 
me.’ 

“ ‘ Is n ’t it good that there is one day in the 
week when the poor little tired pin-boy can 
rest ? ’ 

“ ‘Yes — it is good,’ said Norman, quietly, but 
as if he was too accustomed to being tired to 
take the good of it. 


64 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


^Can you read the Bible, Norman!’ 

^No, I can’t read,’ said Norman. ^Mother 
can.’ 

^You know the Bible is God’s book, written 
to tell us how to be good, and whatever the Bible 



says we should mind. Now, the Bible says, 
Thou shalt not steal. Do you know what that 
means ! ’ 

‘Yes,’ said Norman, swinging one little foot 
back and forward in the warm shine of the fire ; 
‘T ’ve heard it.’ 


65 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


Ht is to take what does not belong to ns. 
Now, since God has said that, is it qnite right for 
you to take that money of your mother’s to buy 
milk for Long-Ears T 

^liis nH her money,’ said Norman, his face 
changing; ‘and Long-Ears can’t starve!’ 

“ ‘It is her money, Norman ; all the money you 
earn belongs to her, or to your father, which is 
the same thing. You know it does.’ 

“ ‘But Curly must have something to eat,’ 
said Norman, bursting into tears. 

“ ‘Hush, dear. Do you know who Jesus 
Christ isV said Mrs. Meadow’s kind voice, and 
her kind hand on his head. 

“ ‘No.’ 

‘ ‘ ‘ Poor little thing ! ’ said Silky, and the tears 
fell from her face as she went from the fire to 
the table. Norman looked at her, and so did 
her mother, and then they looked at each other. 

“ ‘Jesus Christ is your best friend, little Nor- 
man.’ 

“ ‘It ’s all told about in God’s book, dear. 
Little Norman Finch, like everybody else, has n’t 
loved God, nor minded His commandments as he 
66 



NORMAN TFLLS MRS. MEADOW THERE IS NO ONE TO CARE FOR HIM. 





THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


ought to do ; and God would have punished us all, 
if Jesus Christ hadn’t come down from heaven 
on purpose to take our punishment on Himself, 
so that we might be saved. ’ 

‘MTiat did He do that for?’ said Norman. 
^Because He is so good. He loved us, and 
wanted to save us and bring us back to be His 
children, and to be good and happy. ’ 

‘Does He love me?’ said Norman. 

“ ‘Yes, indeed,’ said Mrs. Meadow. ‘Do 
you think He came to die for you and 
does n ’t love you ? If you will love and obey 
Him, He will love you forever, and take 
care of you; better care than any one else 
can.’ 

“ ‘There isn’t anybody else to take care of 
me,’ said Norman. ‘Mother can’t, and father 
don’t much. I wish I knew about that.’ 

“With a look of wonder and interest at her 
daughter, Mrs. Meadow reached after her Bible, 
without letting Norman down from her lap; and 
turning from place to place, read to him the 
story of Christ’s death, and various parts of His 
life and teaching. He listened, gravely and con- 

5 — The Christmas Stocking. 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


stantly and intently, and seemed not to weary of 
it at all, till she was tired and obliged to stop. 
He made no remark then, but sat a little while 
with a sober face, till his old fatigue of days past 
came over him, and his eyelids drooped, and 
slipping from Mrs. Meadow ^s lap, he laid him- 
self down on the hearth to sleep. They put 
something under his head and sat watching him, 
the eyes of both every now and then running 
over. 

^^When the little sleeper awoke, they bent all 
their attention to giving him a pleasant day. He 
had a good dinner and a nice supper. His clothes 
were thoroughly dried ; and Mrs. Meadow said, 
when she put them on, that if she could only get 
a chance of a week-day, she would patch them up 
comfortably for him. Towards nightfall the 
rain stopped, and he went home dry and warm, 
and with a good piece of cheese and a loaf of 
plain gingerbread under his arm. When he was 
all ready to set out he paused at the door, and 
looking up at Mrs. Meadow, said : 

‘Hoes He say we must n’t steal?’ 

“ ‘Yes, to be sure. The Bible says it, and the 
70 



71 


NORMAN COMES AGAIN FOR MILK BUT DISLIKES TO BE QUESTIONED. 






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THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


Bible is God’s Word; and Jesus said it over 
again when He was on the earth. ’ 

‘‘Norman stood a quarter of a minute, and 
then went out and closed the door. 

“The next morning they looked eagerly for 
him. But he did not come. He stopped at even- 
ing, as usual, but Silky was just then busy and 
did not speak to him beyond a word. Tuesday 
morning he did not come. At night he was there 
again with his jug. 

“ ‘How do you do, Norman H said Mrs. Mea- 
dow, when she filled it, ‘ and how is Long-Ears 1 ’ 

“But Norman did not answer, and turned to 
go. 

“ ‘Come here in the morning, Norman,’ Mrs. 
Meadow called after him. 

‘ ‘ Whether he heard her or not, he did not show 
himself on his way to the factory next morning. 
That was Wednesday. 

“ ‘Norman has n’t been here these three days, 
mother, ’ said Silky. ‘ Can it be he has made up 
his mind to do without his half -pennyworth of 
milk for the dog?’ 

‘ ‘ ‘ Little fellow ! ’ said Mrs. Meadow, ‘ I meant 
73 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


to have given it to him; skim milk would do, I 
dare say; but I forget to tell him Sunday; and 
I told him last night to stop, but he has n’t done 
it. We ’ll go up to the factory. Silky, and see 
how he is, after dinner. ’ 

After dinner they went, and I went in Silky’s 
pocket. Mrs. Meadow asked for Mr. Swift, and 
presently he came. 

‘Is little Norman Finch at work to-day, Mr. 
Swift?’ 

‘ ‘ ‘ Norman Finch ? Well, yes, ma ’am, he ’s to 
work, ’ said the overseer ; ‘he don’t do much work 
this day or so. He has n’t hard work, neither; 
but he ’s a poor little billet of a boy. ’ 

“ ‘Is he is good boy, sir?’ 

“ ‘I don’t know any harm of him,’ said Mr. 
Swift. ‘He ’s about like the common. Not par- 
ticularly strong in the head, nor anywhere else, 
for that matter; but he is a good-feeling child. 
Yes— now I remember. It ’s as much as a year 
ago, that I was mad with him one day, and was 
going to give the careless little rascal a strap- 
ping for something, and a bold, brave fellow in 
the same room, about twice as big and six times 
74 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


as strong as Norman, offered to take it and spare 
him. I did n T care ; it answered my purpose of 
keeping order just as well that Bill Bollings 
should have it as Norman Finch, if he had a 
mind ; and ever since that time Finch has been 
ready to lay down his body and soul for Bollings, 



-if it could do him any service. He ^s a good- 
hearted boy, I do suppose. ’ 

^What a noble boy, the other one!’ said 
Mrs. Meadow. 

‘Ha ! weW—that was noble enough, ’ said Mr. 
75 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


Swift; ^but he ’s a kind of harum-scarum fellow 
—just as likely to get himself into a scrape to- 
morrow as to get somebody else out of one to- 
day.’ 

^ ^ ‘ That was noble, ’ repeated Mrs. Meadow. 

^Norman has never forgotten it. As I said, 
he ’d lay down body and soul for him. There ’s 
a little pet dog he has, too’ Mr. Swift went on, 
Hhat I believe he ’d do as much for. A pretty 
creature! I would have bought it of him, and 
given a good price for it, but he seemed fright- 
ened at the proposal. I believe he keeps the 
creature here partly for fear he would lose him 
at home.’ 

‘May we go in, sir, and see Norman for a 
moment ? ’ 

‘ ‘ ‘ Certainly, ’ Mr. Swift said ; and himself led 
the way. 

“Through several long rooms and rows of 
workers went Mr. Swift, and Mrs. Meadow and 
Sill^^^ after him, to the one where they found 
little Norman. He was standing before some 
sort of a machine, folding papers and pressing 
them against rows of pins, that were held all in 
76 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


order, and with their points ready, by two pieces 
of iron in the machine. Norman was not work- 
ing smartly, and looked already jaded, thongh 
it was early in the afternoon. Close at his feet, 
almost touching him, lay the little white dog. 
A very little and most beautiful creature. Soft, 
white, curling hair, and large silky ears that 
drooped to the floor, as he lay with his head upon 
his paws, and two gentle brown eyes looked 
almost pitifully up at the strangers. He di3" 
not get up ; nor did Norman look round, till Mrs. 
Meadow spoke to him. 

‘AVhen he heard Mrs. Meadow’s soft, ^Nor- 
man, how do you doT his fingers fell from the 
row of pin points, and he turned towards her, 
looking a good deal surprised and a little 
pleased, but with a very sober face. 

^How comes it you have n’t been for Long- 
Ears ’ milk these days I ’ 

H— I couldn’t,” said Norman. H hadn’t 
any money— I gave it to mother.” He spoke 
low and with some difficulty. 

‘And what has Long-Ears done, dear, with- 
out his milk ? ’ 


77 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


‘‘Norman was silent, and his month twitched. 
Mrs. Meadow looked at the little dog, which lay 
still where he had been when she came in, his 
gentle eyes having, she thought, a curious sort 
of wistfulness in their note-taking. 

“ ‘I Ve brought him some milk,’ whispered 
Silky ; and, softly stooping down, she uncovered 
her little tin pail and tried to coax the dog to 
come to it. But Norman no sooner caught the 
words of her whisper and saw the pail, than his 
spirit gave way ; he hurst into a bitter fit of cry- 
ing, and threw himself down on the floor and hid 
his face. 

“ ‘Oh, well,’ said Mr. Swift— ‘but he must n’t 
make such a disturbance about it— it ’s against 
all order; and feeding the dog, too!— but it ’s a 
pretty creature. He ’s hungry, he is! Well! 
it ’s well we don’t have ladies come to the factory 
every day. ’ 

‘ ‘ The boy was” quiet enough now. While Mr. 
Swift had been speaking he raised himself from 
the floor, half up, and had stopped sobbing, and 
was looking at Long-Ears and gently touching 
his curly head ; who, on his part, was lapping the 

78 



79 


MRS. MEADOW AND SILKY VISIT NORMAN AT THE FACTORY. 





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THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


milk with an eagerness as if he had wanted it for 
some time. Norman’s tears fell yet, hut they 
fell quietly. By the time the little dog had fin- 
ished the milk they did not fall at all. Till then 
nobody said anything. 



“HE WAS LOOKING AT LONG-EARS.” 


“ ‘Come for it every morning again, my 
cHId, ’ said Mrs. Meadow, softly; ‘I ’ll give it to 
you. What a dear little fellow he is! I don’t 
wonder you love him. He shall have milk 
enough.’ 

Bt 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


Norman looked up gratefully, and with a 
little bit of a smile. 

^^You don’t look very strong, my boy,” said 
Mrs. Meadow. ^You don’t feel well, do you?’ 

^Hie shook his head, as if it was a matter 
beyond his understanding. 

^ ‘ ‘ Are you tired ! ’ 

^ ^ His eyes gave token of understanding that. 
^ Yes, I ’m tired.’ 

‘^Norman came after that every morning for 
the dog’s milk; and many a Sunday he and Long- 
Ears passed part of the time with Mrs. Meadow ; 
and many a reading he listened to there as he 
had listened to the first one. He didn’t talk 
much. He was always near his little dog, and 
he seemed quietly to enjoy everything at those 
times. 

^^As the summer changed into autumn, and 
autumn gave way to winter, Norman’s little face 
seemed to grow better-looking, all the while it 
was growing more pale, and his little body more 
slim. It grew to be a contented, very quiet and 
patient face, and his eye took a clearness and 
openness it did not use to have, though he never 
82 



\ 


83 


MRS. MEADOW AND SILKY SET OUT TO VISIT NORMAN, 





THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


was a &a(i-lookiiig child. ‘He won’t live long,’ 
Mrs. Meadow said, after every Sunday. 

‘ ‘ The little white dog all this while grew more 
white and curly and bright-eyed every day; or 
they all thought so. 

“It was not till some time in January that at 
last Norman stopped coming for milk, and did 
not go by to the factory any more. It was in a 
severe hit of weather, when Mrs. Meadow was 
shut up with a bad cold; and some days were 
gone before she or Silky could get any news of 
him. Then, one cold evening, his mother came 
for milk, and to say that Norman was very ill 
and would like to see Silky and Mrs. Meadow. 

“They got ready directly. Silky put her 
purse in her pocket, as she generally did when 
she was going to see poor people, and, wrapping 
up warm with cloaks and shawls and hoods, she 
and her mother set out. It was just sunset of 
a winter’s day, clear enough, but uncommonly 
cold. 

‘ ‘ Silky was trembling all over by the time they 
stopped at one of the brick dwelling-houses and 
went in. The front door stood open; nobody 

e— The Christmas Stocking, g e 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


minded that; it was nobody’s business to shut it. 
They went in, through a dirty entry, and up 
stairs that nobody ever thought of cleaning, to 
the third story. There Mrs. Meadow first 
knocked, and then gently opened the door. A 
man was there, sitting over the fire ; a wretched 
tallow light on the table hardly showed what he 
looked like. Mrs. Meadow spoke with her usual 
pleasantness. 

^Good evening, Mr. Finch. Can I see little 
Norman?’ 

‘‘ ^ Yes— I suppose so, ’ the man said, in a grulf 
voice, and pointing to another door; Hhey ’re in 
yonder. ’ 

‘Ht was so dark, hardly anything could be 
seen. A woman rose up from some corner— it 
proved to be Mrs. Finch— and went for the light. 

^^The room was ill-lighted when the candle 
was in it, but there could be seen two beds ; one 
raised on some sort of a bedstead, the other on 
the floor in a corner. No fire was in this room, 
and the bed was covered with all sorts of cover- 
ings; a torn quilt, an old great-coat, a small 
ragged worsted shawl, and Norman’s own poor 
86 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


little jacket and trousers. But on these, close 
within reach of the boy’s hand, lay curled the 
little dog; his glossy white hair and soft out- 
lines making a strange contrast with the rags 
and poverty and ugliness of the place. 



“NORMAN DID NOT LOOK MUCH CHANGED." 


‘‘Norman did not look much changed, except 
that his face was so very pale it seemed as if he 
had no more blood to leave it. Mrs. Meadow 
and Silky came near, and neither of them at first 
was forward to speak. Mrs. Finch stood hold- 

87 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


ing the light. Then Mrs. Meadow stooped down 
by the bed^s head. 

^Little Norman,’ she said— and you could 
tell her heart was full of tears— ‘do you know 
mer 

“ ‘ I know you, ’ he said, in a weak voice, and 
with a little bit of a smile. 

“ ‘How do you do?’ 

“ ‘Very well,’ he said, in the same manner. 
‘I am going now.’ 

“ ‘Where, dear?’ 

“ ‘You know— to that good place. Jesus will 
take me, won’t He?’ 

‘ ‘ ‘ What makes you think you ’re going, dear ? ’ 
said Mrs. Meadow. 

“ ‘I can ’t stay,’ said Norman, shutting his 
eyes. He opened them again immediately. 
‘I ’m going,’ he said. ‘I ’m so tired. I sha’n’t 
be tired there, shall I ? ’ 

“ ‘No, dear,’ said Mrs. Meadow, whose power 
of speech was like to fail her. She kept wiping 
her face with her pocket handkerchief. Nor- 
man stroked and stroked his little dog’s silky 
head. 


88 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


^Poor Long-Ears!’ said lie, faintly; ^poor 
Long-Ears! — I can’t take care of you now. 
Poor Long-Ears! you ’re hungry. He hasn’t 
had anything to eat since— since— mother !’ 

‘He don’t know how time goes,’ said Mrs. 



Finch, who had not before spoken. ‘The dog 
has n’t had a sup of anything since the day be- 
fore yesterday. He has a right to be hungry. 
I don’t know what he lives on. My husband 
don’t care whether anything lives or not.’ 

89 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


‘‘Silky had not said a word, and she didn’t 
now, but she brought out that same little tin pail 
from under her cloak, and set it down on the 
floor. Norman’s eye brightened. But the dog 
could not be coaxed to quit the bed ; he would set 
only his two fore-feet on the floor, and so drank 
the milk out of the pail. Norman watched him, 
almost with a smile. And when the dog, having 
left the milk, curled himself down again in his 
old place, and looked into his master’s face, Nor- 
man quite smiled. 

“ ‘Poor Long-Ears!’ he said, patting him 
again with a feeble hand. ‘I ’m going to leave 
you— what will you do ? ’ 

“ ‘I ’ll take care of him, Norman,’ said Mrs. 
Meadow. ‘ As long as he lives, if you wish. ’ 

“Norman signed for her to put her ear down 
to hiip, and said earnestly : 

“ ‘I give him to you— you keep him. Will 
your 

“ ‘Yes, indeed, I will,’ said Mrs. Meadow. 

“ ‘Then you ’ll have milk enough, dear little 
Long-Ears,’ said Norman. ‘But,’ he said 
eagerly to Mrs. Meadow, ‘you must take him 
90 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


home with you to-night— I ’m afraid father will 
do something with him, if you don T. ’ 

^ ^ ^ But you will want him, ^ said Mrs. Meadow. 
‘No, I won’t. Father will do something 
with him. ’ 



‘*HE JUST SLUMBERED AWAY.” 


‘ ‘ ‘ Then I ’ll take him, and keep him, dear, as 
if he was yourself, ’ said Mrs. Meadow. 

“I won’t want him, ’ said Norman, shutting his 
eyes again; ‘I ’m going.’ 

‘ ‘ And he never opened them again. It seemed 

91 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


that having his mind easy about his pet, and hav- 
ing seen his friends, he wanted nothing more on 
this earth. He just slumbered away a few 
hours, and died so, as quietly as he had slept. 
His little pale meek face looked as if, as he said, 
he was glad to go. 

‘‘Nothing hut a degree of force that no one 
would use could have moved Long-Ears from 
the body of his master, till it was laid in the 
grave. Then, with some difficulty, Mrs. Meadow 
gained possession of him and brought him 
home. ’ ’ 

92 


THE STORY OF THE FARTHING 



CHAPTER III 


THE STORY OF THE FARTHING 

farthing,’’ said Carl, ‘^it is your 
^ turn. So make haste. ’ ’ 

^ ‘ Turn me over then, ’ ’ said the farth- 
ing, ^ Hor I can ’t talk with my back to people. ’ ’ 

So Carl turned him over, and there he lay and 
stared at the ceiling. 

^‘The first thing I remember,” began the 
farthing, slowly,^ ‘was being put by an old gentle- 
man into a leather purse. I was very bright, for 
I had just come from the Mint. The leather 
purse in which I lay had an end for gold and sil- 
ver and another for copper. With my usual 
love of bright company, when the old gentleman 
slipped me in amongst a number of dingy pen- 
nies I slipped out again and ran in among the 
gold. 

“The old gentleman walked leisurely home, 
95 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


and when he rang his own door hell it was al- 
ready quite dark. A dear little girl opened the 
door, dressed in a white frock and black apron. 

^ Oh, grandpa, ’ she said, H ’m so glad you Ve 
come, because there ’s a little boy been waiting 
here ever so long for ten shillings.’ 

^Well, my dear,’ said the old gentleman, 
Hen shillings is worth waiting for.’ 

^But he ’s in a great hurry to get home be- 
fore dark, because he says the children have got 
no bread for supper till he buys it, ’ said the little 
girl. ‘He brought a pair of boots for you, 
grandpa. His father ’s very poor, he says. ’ 

“ ‘Is he?’ said the old gentleman; ‘then I ’m 
afraid my boots won’t be worth much. How- 
ever, Nanny, my dear, you may take him the 
money for ’em, since they ’re here. ’ 

‘ ‘ ‘ Shall I fetch you a light, grandpa, ’ said the 
child. ‘ It ’s too dark to see. ’ 

“ ‘No, no— not a bit of it— I know how half-a- 
sovereign feels, well enough. He shall have a 
gold piece— for the first time in his life, I ’ll war- 
rant. ’ 

“And opening the most precious end of his 
96 



97 


THE OLD GENTLEMAN SLIPS THE BRIGHT FATHTNG INTO HIS PURSE. 













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THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


purse, the old gentleman’s unerring thumb and 
finger drew forth me, and laid me in the little 
girl’s open palm. The soft little hand closed 
upon me, and down she ran to the lower entry. 
a < There,’ she said, ‘here it is. Grandpa says 



“‘OH, GRANDPA, I 'AM SO GLAD YOU ’VE COME.” 


he guesses that ’s the first gold piece you ever 
had. Have you got a great many little brothers 
and sisters ? ’ 

“ ‘This ain ’t gold,’ said the boy, too busy ex- 
99 


LoFC. 



THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


amining me to heed her last question. ^He 
made a mistake, this is onlj^ a farthing.’ 

^ ‘ ‘ Oh, well, I ’ll take it back to him then, ’ said 
the little messenger. H s’pose he couldn’t see 
in the dark. ’ And away she ran. 

^‘The old gentleman by this time was enjoying 
his slippers and the newspaper, between a blaz- 
ing fire and two long candles in tall silver candle- 
sticks. 

‘‘ ^Grandpa,’ said the child, laying her hand 
on his knee, ^do you know what you did in the 
dark? you gave that hoy a farthing instead of a 
gold piece— wasn’t it funny?’ 

‘Hey! what?’ said the old gentleman, mov- 
ing his paper far enough to one side to see the 
little speaker. ‘ Gave him a farthing instead of 
a gold piece ? nonsense ! ’ 

‘ ‘ ‘ But you did, grandpa, ’ urged the child. 

“ ‘Only look at it, grandpa; see— it’s only a 
farthing. ’ 

“ ‘I don’t want to look at it,’ said he, putting 
away her hand. ‘All stuff, my dear— it was as 
good a piece of gold as ever came out of the Mint. 
Don’t I know the feel of one? and did n’t I take 


lOO 



7 — The Christinas Stocking , JOI 


THE boot-maker’s BOY SAYS A MISTAKE HAS BEEN MADE. 



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THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


it out of the gold end of my purse, where I never 
put copper? Bad boy, no doubt — you mustn’t 
go back to him. Here, William— ’ 

‘But he looked good, grandpa,’ said the 
child, ‘ and so sorry. ’ 

“ ‘He ’ll look sorry now, I ’ll be bound,’ said 



“PRESENTLY HE WALKED AWAY.” 


the old man. ‘I say, William!— take this farth- 
ing back to that boy, and tell him to be off with 
it, and not to show his face here again. ’ 

“The command was strictly obeyed; and my 
new owner, after a vain attempt to move the 
103 



THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


waiter, carried me into the street and sat down 
on the next door-step. 

^ ‘ At length he seemed to comprehend his loss ; 
for, dropping me on the pavement, he sank his 
head on his hands, and the hot tears fell fast 
down from his face npon mine. Then, in a sud- 
den passion of grief and excitement, he caught 
me up and threw me from him as far as he could ; 
and I, who had been too proud to associate with 
coppers, now fell to the very bottom of a heap of 
mud. As I lay there half smothered, I could 
hear the steps of the boy, who, soon repenting of 
his rashness, now sought me— inasmuch as I was 
better than nothing; but he sought in vain. 
Presently he walked away. 

am not good at reckoning time,’’ said the 
farthing, ‘‘but I should think I might have lain 
there about a week— the mud heap having in the 
meantime changed to one of dust ; when a furious 
shower arose one afternoon, or I should rather 
say came down ; and not only were dust and mud 
swept away, but the rain even washed my face 
for me, and left me, almost as bright as ever, 
high and dry upon a clean paving-stone. 


104 



105 


THE OLD GENTLEMAN REFUSES TO EVEN LOOK AT THE COIN, 




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THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 

I lay there I suddenly felt myself picked 
up by a most careful little finger and thumb, 
which had no desire to get wet or muddy. They 
belonged to a little girl about ten years old. 

“ ‘You pretty farthing!’ she said admiringly; 



“how bright and nice you do look! and how 
funny it is that I should find you— I never found 
anything before. I wonder how you came here 
—I hope some poor child didn’t lose you. ” 

“While she thus expressed her opinion I was 
107 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


busy making up mine, and truly it was a pleasant 
one. Her hair was brushed quite smooth, only 
when she stopped to pick me up one lock had 
fallen down from under the sun-bonnet ; and her 
face was as simple and good as it could be. But 
I saw that her cheeks were thin, and they might 
have been pale but for the pink sun-bonnet. 

^ ‘ Suddenly she exclaimed : 

‘Now I can get it !— Oh, I ’m so glad ! Come, 
little farthing, I must give you away, though I 
should like to keep you very much, for you ’re 
very pretty ; but you are all the money I Ve got 
in the world. ’ ’ 

“Now for the candy-store,” thought I, as she 
turned and began to walk away as fast as she 
could. She tripped along, till we came to a 
large grocery. There she went in. 

“ ‘Please, sir, to let me have a farthing’s 
worth of tea, ’ she said timidly, showing me, and 
giving me a kind glance at the same time ; “ it ’s 
only a farthing, but it will get enough for mother, 
and she ’s sick and wanted some tea so much. ’ 

“The young man, taking down a canister, 
measured out two or three good pinches of tea 
io8 



THE LITTLE GIRL BUYS TEA FOR HER SICK MOTHER WITH THE FARTHING, 











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THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


into a brown paper and folded it up. The child 
took it with a very glad face, laying me down on 
the counter with a joyful ‘ Thank you, sir ! ^ which 
I by no means repeated— I wanted to go home 
with her and see that tea made. But we farth- 



“HE GAVE THE STARCH TO THE COOK.” 


ings can never know the good that our purchases 
do in the world. 

‘^The clerk took me up and balanced me upon 
his finger, as if he had half a mind to give the 
child back her money, and pay the sum of one 


III 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


farthing into the store out of his own private 
purse. But habit prevailed, and he dropped me 
into the till. 

‘^We were a dull company in the till that 
night, for most of the money was old ; and it is a 
well-known fact that worn-down coins are not 
communicative. In this inactive kind of life 
some time passed away, and though some of us 
were occasionally taken to market, yet we never 
bought anything. But one evening a man came 
into the grocery and asked for starch, and we 
hoped for bright visitors; but I had no time to 
enjoy them, for I was sent to make change. The 
messenger was a manservant, and with the 
starch in his hand and me in his pocket he soon 
left the store and went whistling along the street. 
I was glad when he reached home, and ran down 
the area steps and into the kitchen. He gave 
the starch to the cook, and she carried the change 
into the parlor. But what was my surprise to 
find that I was in the very same house whence I 
had gone forth as a piece of gold ! 

‘^The old gentleman was asleep in his chair 
now, and a pretty-looking lady sat by, reading, 


II2 



NANNY ASKS HER MOTHER FOR THE FARTHING. 







THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 

wliile the little girl was playing with her doll on 
the rng. She jumped np and came to the table, 
and began to count the change. 

<< < Two-and-sixpence, mamma— see, here’s a 
shilling and two sixpences and five-pence and a 
farthing—mamma, may I have this farthing T 
Ht isn’t mine, Nanny— your grandfather 
gave James the money.’ 

‘Well, but you can pay him again,’ said the 
child ; ‘ and, besides, he ’d let me have it, I know. ’ 

“ ‘What will you do with it, Nanny?’ 

“ ‘Oh, I don’t know, mamma— I ’ll see if 
grandpa will let me have it. ’ 

“ ‘Let you have what?’ said the old gentle- 
man, waking up. 

“ ‘This farthing, grandpa.’ 

“ ‘ To be sure you maj^ have it i Of course !— 
and fifty more. ’ 

“ ‘No, she must have but one,’ said the lady, 
with a smile. 

“Nanny thanked her mother, and, holding me 
fast in one hand, she sat down on the rug again 
by her doll. The old gentleman seemed very 
much amused. 

1 15 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


‘^From that time, whenever little Nanny went 
to walk I went too ; and she really seemed to be 
quite fond of me, for though she often stopped 
before the candy stores or the toy shops, and 
once or twice went in to look at some heads, yet 
she always carried me home again. 

^ Mamma, I don’t know how to spend my 
farthing, ’ she said one day. 

‘Are you tired of taking care of it, Nanny?’ 

“ ‘No, mamma, but I want to spend it. ’ 

“ ‘Why?’ 

“ ‘Why, mamma— I don’t know— money’s 
meant to spend, is n’t it?’ 

“ ‘Yes, it is meant to spend— not to throw 
away. ’ 

“ ‘Oh, no,’ said Nanny; ‘I wouldn’t throw 
away my farthing for anything. It ’s a very 
pretty farthing. 

“ ‘I won’t get my beads then,’ added Nanny, 
with a little sigh. 

‘ ‘ ‘ That would not be waste, ’ said her mother, 
kissing her. ‘It is right to spend some of our 
money for harmless pleasure, and we will go and 
buy the beads this very afternoon. ’ 

ii6 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


‘ ‘ So after dinner they set forth. 

‘Ht was a very cold day, but Nanny and her 
mother were well wrapped up, so they did not 
feel it much. I was just wondering to myself 



what kind of a person the head-woman would 
prove to be, when I heard Nanny say : 

^ ‘ ^ Mamma, did you see that little girl on those 
brown steps? She had no tippet, mamma, and 
not even a shawl, and her feet were all tucked up 

8— The Christmas Stocking. 1 1 ^ 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


in her petticoat; and ^—Nanny’s voice faltered— 
H think she was crying. I didn’t look at her 
much, for it made me feel bad, but I thought so. ’ 
‘Yes, love,’ said her mother, ‘I saw her. 
How good God has been to me, that it is not my 
little daughter who is sitting there. ’ 

“Nanny walked on in silence for some time, 
then she spoke again. 

“ ‘Mamma, I ’m afraid a great many poor 
children want things more than I want my 
beads. ’ 

“ ‘I ’m afraid they do, Nanny.’ 

“ ‘Mamma, will you please go back with me 
and let me give that little girl my farthing? 
"VYould n’t she be pleased, mamma? Would she 
know how to spend it ? ’ 

“ ‘Suppose you spend it for her, Nanny. 
People that are cold are often hungry, too. Shall 
we go to the baker’s and buy her something to 
eat?” 

“ ‘Oh, yes,’ said Nanny. ‘Will you buy it, 
mamma, or shall I ? ’ 

“ ‘You, darling.’ 

“ ‘And when they reached the shop, Nanny 

ii8 



NANNY AND HER MOTHER REACH THE BAKER’S SHOP. 





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THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


looked round once more at her mother, and 
opening the shop door with a very pleased and 
excited little face, she marched up to the counter. 
“ ‘If you please, sir,’ she said, laying me 



‘ WHAT WILL YOU HAVE, MY DEAR ?* ’ 


down on the counter, ‘I want something for a 
very poor little girl. She ’s sitting out in the 
street all alone.’ And Nanny’s lips were 
trembling at the remembrance. Her mother’s 
eyes were full, too. 


I2I 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


^What will you have, my dearT said the 
baker. 

‘‘Nanny looked up at her mother. 

“ ‘What would you like if you were hungry?’ 
replied her mother. 

“ ‘Oh, I should like some bread,’ said Nanny, 
‘and I guess the little girl would, too. But all 
those loaves are too big.’ 

‘ ‘ ‘ How would these do, ’ said the baker, taking 
some rolls out of a drawer. 

“ ‘Oh, they ’re just the thing!’ said Nanny, 
‘and I like rolls so much. May I take one, sir? 
and is a farthing enough to pay for it?’ 

“The baker gave a queer little shake of his 
head, and searching below the counter for a bit 
of wrapping-paper, he laid the two largest rolls 
upon it. 

“ ‘A farthing is enough to pay for two.’ he 
said. ‘ Shall I tie them up for you ? ’ 

“ ‘No, thank you, sir; you needn’t tie it— if 
you ’ll only wrap them up a little. ’ 

“The baker went right into the back room,” 
continued the farthing, “to tell the story to his 
wife, and I was left to my own reflections on the 


122 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


counter; but I had reason to be well satisfied, 
for it was certainly the largest farthing’s worth 
I had ever bought in my life. But while I lay 
there thinking about it, a boy came into the 
shop, and, seeing me, he caught me up and ran 



“THE baker’s boy WAS SWEEPING THE FLOOR.” 


out again. At least, he was running out, when 
he tripped and fell, and, as I am noted for slip- 
ping through people ’s fingers, I slipped through 
his, and rolled to the farthest corner of the 
shop. There I lay all night, and in the morn- 
123 



THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


ing when the baker boy was sweeping the floor, 
he found me and pnt me in the till, for he was 
honest. But just then Mr. Krinken came in 
with a string of fish, and the careless creature 
gave me with some other change for a parcel of 
miserable fiounders. That ^s the way I came 
here.^’ 

fll take good care of you, farthing,’^ said 
Carl, as he put it hack into the purse, ^‘and I 
wonT spend you till I want to.’^ 

124 


THE STORY OF THE CORK BOAT 


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. 1 


CHAPTER IV 


THE STOKY OF THE COEK BOAT. 

«l^TOW, my pretty little boat/’ said Carl 
^ the next day, ‘^you shall tell me your 
story. ’ ’ 

Carl had been lying flat on his back on the 
floor, holding the boat at arm’s length over his 
head, looking at it and turning it about; now, 
he placed it on the old chest which held his other 
treasures, and waited for the boat to speak, 
can’t tell a story,” said the boat. 

Can’t tell a story !— yes you can,” said Carl. 
‘^Do it, right off.” 

haven’t any to tell,” said the boat. 
was once of some use in the world, but now I ’m 
of none, except to be looked at.” 

‘‘Yes, you are of use,” said Carl, “for I like 
you; and you can tell a story, too, if you ’re a 
mind, as well as the purse. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ The purse has had a better experience, ’ ’ said 
127 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


the boat, ^^and has kept good society. For me, 
I have always lived on the outside of things, ever 
since I can remember, and never knew what was 
going on in the world, any more than I knew 
what was going on inside of my old tree. All I 
knew was that I carried up sap for its branches 
—when it came down again, or what became of 
it, I never saw. ’ ’ 

‘‘Where were you thenT^ said Carl. 

“On the outside of a great evergreen oak, in 
a forest of Valencia. I was a piece of its bark. 
I wish I was there now. But the outer bark of 
those trees gets dead after a while— and then 
the country people come and cut it off and sell 
it out of the land. ’ ’ 

“And were you dead and sold otf said Carl. 

“ To be sure I was. As fine a piece of cork as 
ever grew. I had been growing nine years, since 
tlie tree was cut before. ’ ^ 

“Well but tell me your story said Carl. 

“I tell you,’’ said the little boat, “I haven’t 
any story. There was nothing to be seen in the 
forest but the great shades of the kingly oaks, 
and the birds that reveled in. the solitude of 
128 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 

their thick branches, and the martens, and 
snch like. It was fine there, though. The 
north wind never troubled me. The snow 
never lay on the glossy leaves of my parent 
oak. Nobody came near us, unless a stray 



peasant now and then passed through. And 
when I was cut down, I was packed up and 
shipped off to England, and shifted from hand to 
hand, till John Krinken took it into his head 
years ago to make a sort of cork jacket of me, 
129 


THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 


with one or two of my companions ; and I have 
been tumbling about in bis possession ever since. 
He has done for me now. I am prettier than I 
ever was before, but I shall never be of any use 
again. I shall try the water, I suppose, again a 
few times for your pleasure, and then probably 
I shall try the fire, for the same. ’ ^ 

^^Tbe fire! No indeed,’’ said Carl, ’m not 
going to burn you up. I am going to see you 
sail this minute, since you won’t do anything 
else. ’ ’ 

And Carl sprang up and went forthwith to the 
beach to find a quiet bit of shallow water in 
some nook where it would be safe to float bis 
cork boat. But the waves were beating pretty 
high that day, and the tide was coming in, and 
altogether there was too much commotion on the’ 
beach to suit the little ^ ^ Santa Claus, ’ ’ as be had 
named her. So Carl discontentedly came back, 
and set up the little boat to dry. 

‘ ‘ Some day, ’ ’ said Carl to himself, ‘ ^ I am go- 
ing to ask the apples, the shoes, the pine cone, the 
book, and you, old gray stocking, to tell me your 
stories.’’ 

130 


ALTEMUS’ GOOD TIMES SERIES 

Handsomely printed, profusely Illustrated and attractively bound. 

Cloth, illuminated covers (5^ x 7% inches) 50 cents each. 

UNDER THE STARS ~ 

By Florence Morse Kingsley 

Four beautiful stories from the life of Jesus. 

A Watch in the Night. The Only Son of His Mother. 

The Child in Jerusalem. The Children’s Bread. 


THE STORY OF THE ROBINS 

By Sarah Trimmer 

“The Story of the Robins” was first published in England under the 
title of “ Fabulous Histories,” in 1785, and acquired instant popularity. 
It has been issued in ah sizes and styles ; it has received nothing but 
praise from the greatest of critics ; and it has been illustrated by the best 
artists. It compares favorably with modern works which teach kindness to 
animals. 


JACKANAPES 

By Juliana H. Ewing 

In the story of “jackanapes,” the Captain’s child, with his clear blue 
eyes and mop of yellow curls, is the one important figure. The doting 
aunt, the faithful Tony, the irascible General, the postman, the boy- 
trumpeter, the silent Major, and the ever-dear Lollo, are there, it is true, 
but they group around the hero in subordinate positions. In all they say 
and do and feel they conspire to reflect the glory and beauty of the noble, 
generous, tender-spirited “jackanapes.” 

THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 

By Elizabeth Wetherell 

This story of the Christmas Stocking has helped to make many children 
happy, for without it many fathers and mothers would have never thought 
of making arrangements for the visit of Santa Claus, who never comes 
where he is not maoe welcome. The things little Carl found in his stocking 
told him stories which should help us into the habit of remembering those 
who have not all the good things we possess. 

LADDIE 

By the Author of “ Miss Toosey’s Mission ” 

a charming story that has been popular for many years, and deservedly so. 

MAKING A START 

By Tudor Jenks. 

A story of a bright boy who did not wait for “something to turn up,” 
but exercised his talent for drawing until he secured a good position on a 
great daily newspaper. A book for boys who are learning that “ the secret 
of success is constancy to purpose.” 


HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA 


131 



ALTEMUS’ GOOD TIMES SERIES 

Handsomely printed, profusely illustrated and attractively bound. 

Cloth, illuminated covers x 7% inches) 50 cents each. 

THE STORY OF A DONKEY 

By Mme. La Comtesse de Segur. 

In this book the donkey tells the story of his life and adventure, be- 
cause, as he says, “ I want you to treat all of us donkeys kindly, and to 
remember that we are often much more sensible than some human beings.” 
The story has always been exceedingly popular and has delighted thousands 
of readers. 

MISS TOOSEY’S MISSION 

By the Author of “ Laddie.” 

A delightful and wholesome story that has had a wide circulation and still 
holds its popularity. 

A BLUE GRASS BEAUTY 

By Gabrielle E. Jackson. 

Never did Kentucky turn out a handsomer creature than the Blue Grass 
Beauty who twice carried off the Blue Ribbon at New York’s great annual 
horse show. With the story of his life is woven that of some very nice 
people, and all is set forth in Mrs. Jackson’s inimitable manner. It is far too 
good a book to mislay. 

THE STORY OF A SHORT LIFE 

By* Juliana H. Ewing. 

In “The Story of a Short Life,” Mrs. Ewing again sings the praises of 
military life and courtesies. Many people admire Leonard’s story as 
much as “jackanapes,” possibly because the circumstances of the former’s 
life are much more within the range of common experiences than those of the 
latter. It is a simple, exquisitely tender little story. 

JESSICA’S FIRST PRAYER 

By Hesba Stretton. 

A beautiful and pathetic story which appeals to all children, and to older 
readers as well. 


THE ADVENTURES OF BARON 
MUNCHAUSEN 

By Rudolph Erich Raspe. 

In 1737 Baron Munchausen served in Russian campaigns against the 
Turks, and after his return acquired great notoriety by his exaggerated 
stories of adventure. These stories are so outrageous, and Munchausen 
asserts so strongly that they are all strictly true, that bis name has become 
proverbial as a synonym for extravagant boasting. 


HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA 


132 








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